Chapter 3, Destiny's Slave
Steel glinted in the summer sun, the metal hot to the touch as my fingers brushed past it. With the hint of something approaching cooking wafted past my nose, the scent sent a deep feeling of revulsion down my spine.
"Haiuuaghhh, uuUUUayhs!"
I didn't have enough left in me when I stumbled back to the wagon's edge, dry heaving while my brain pounded against my own skull. Just the thought of food was enough to destroy me, actually severing the splintered limb would be too much to handle. Fumbling around until my good hand grasped the glass neck of the bottle of alcohol that I had reserved for a rainy day, which seemed to be right here and now.
"GAUGGGH!"
- 3 HP (16/26)
The whole process has made leagues easier, infinitely faster with the aid of someone else more able bodied than I. Instead I was accompanied by death himself as amber liquid traveled down my ruined limb, feeling the liquid burn a path into every crevice of my flesh. I swear that a fire had been lit inside of me with how the shot I had taken before doing this went down my throat. Made me think that I was being boiled alive for a few seconds, the air around my collar warmed as my pain seemed to reach its peak.
"agagaghh, gwahd fuckin dahmmnit. . ."
I would've broken a molar had it not been for the piece of leather that I had fitted between my teeth, the sheer pain forced my whole body to tense. Every single moment became seared into my brain, losing sight of the world around me from how hard I had clenched my eyes but not the sounds and smells. The horse pulling the wagon released a chuff as my scream petered out, the merchant seemingly gaining a few new gray hairs as he looked back at me from the corner of my eyes.
"Keep. Fucking. Driving," My heart was beating too fast, every inch of my body seemed to ache from the exertion as I tried to mend my own wounds. There was no hope to even begin trying to replicate my brief ability to communicate with any of these fuckshits. I simply lacked the patience for the task and the underlying messages seemed to reach its intended target as the old man holding onto the reign quickly looked away, "Good."
Had I not been in pain, I doubted that my tone would've been so blunt especially when it was so easy to blame him for this. Course I've never been all too good with people, only really having a brief stint in the retail industry that I had absolutely loathed. Yet I would've liked to keep so much open hostility from leaking into my words, or to have simply not said a word at all.
Bad manners and all that as my mother would've put it.
Not to make excuses, as I genuinely muttered a string of obscenities in the older man's general direction. So much of me was being dedicated toward just holding myself together and keeping myself from breaking down. That I didn't even feel like something I was capable of doing anything else.
I was exhausted, and too stressed with my heartbeat traveling a mile a minute for me to catch a break. Bend or break, that was what was going to happen and if I waited too long. The adrenaline that had just started to pour through my veins to help take the edge off was going to leave me alone with my mistakes.
Probably wasted half the damn shot as I brought the bottle up to my lips, flexing my good set of fingers once the liquid fire petered out. I hadn't intended to use it for anything aside from recreationally, not really sure if 20% would put a dent in an open wound. Something was better than nothing at this point, my frustration had built too much for me to give much of a damn anymore.
Downing whatever was left in the bottle I threw the damn thing out into the road, sucking in a breath after hearing the glass 'DINK!' against the floor. While shoving the leather back into my mouth I secured a hold over my anger to blunt the agony that came with moving.
This had been an absolute fucking SHITSHOW.
"Sonna of a bitch," Even after chugging what must've been a whole third of that 30 ounce bottle, the blood pooling around my forearm sizzled in the afternoon sun. My forearm was still tender, sending painful spasms down my arm whenever my ruined limb brushed again an errant breeze or the wagon hit a bump on the road.
God I wished that I was capable of hurling, but I'd already regurgitated a fair bit when I cut open my bandages in the beginning. I'd lost most of my lunch when I first laid my eyes on the mess that had been made of my right arm.
Once we had traveled far enough to break visual contact with the group guarding that bridge, the blood seeping through my bandages became too much to ignore. Cutting a section off my bandages as the base, moving as carefully as I could to see what I was dealing with. After a point past along my elbow it looked like someone had tried to skin me alive, ripping tan skin to display the angry red muscle and sinew underneath.
My forearm had been torn apart into two parts, the feeling of air rolling over my exposed flesh brought out a deep horror in me. It was a mess. Tendrils of pulsating red and trails of strained blue both seemed to form a makeshift web to cover up the white at the center. It was about at that point that I had originally hurled, vomiting over the side of the wagon.
The sight was revolting, unnerving me down to my very bones given the fact that I had been face to face with some of it.
Staring down at where my right arm had splintered into two halves where I had once held my switchblade above it, sucking up my hesitation to try again. This time abandoning the idea of amputating my splintered limb, slowly moving the blade to avoid nicking a vein as I cut it free.
Of my fingers only 4 remained, there wasn't anything left of my middle finger. Just a gap where it should've been leading further up my arm as my arm continued to be split apart. I had gotten lucky when blocking that strike, as lucky as someone could afford to be given the circumstances. Though screaming nerves exposed to the open arm might say otherwise.
It'd be so easy to pull either part of my arm the wrong way, the bone that made up my radius and ulna had been torn free of each other. Medicine wasn't my field of study, and my knowledge of the human body was shoddy at best. Even so, looking down at what remained of my arm wasn't putting any fears to rest. My anxiety only rose as I started to push my blade through the half healed mass of flesh that made up my wrist.
". . .fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-!"
While amputation was out of the question, even if I just left my injuries to heal, or accelerated the process with that weird magical drink. My shattered wrist was going to prove to be an issue regardless of either path forward. Broken pieces would send sharp pangs throughout my arm at the light jostling that came with walking. Less said about when anyone or anything touched it the better.
'clack!'
- 1 HP (15/26)
This was close to the worst place to do something like it, with the lightest of taps against one of my carpal bones sent me yowling. I had been keeping the knife's edge from anything important, only feeling safe to work away at cutting where yellow patches of fat were connected to the jagged pieces of bone.
'clack!'
- 1 HP (14/26)
A few minutes later I lost even that, unsteady sobs ruining my eyesight by making everything too watery to parse. The least I could do was avoid slicing open a vein, feeling my heartbeat along my entire arm like I had taken a dozen cups of coffee.
'clack!'
- 1 HP (13/26)
That's it, no more, that's enough. Pulling back my switchblade was welded onto my skin, a mix of sweat, blood and bits of bone we're strewn about from all the work I'd done. My good hand shook with the desperation needed to remind me that I was not dead yet and continued before I lost my nerve, while the other lay flat in two pieces. Using my leg the blade was pried out of the death grip that I had kept it in, clattering to the wagon's wooden floor.
I'd never felt so fragile before, more vulnerable and exposed than I ever had been. God I just wanted to curl up and die already, it was too much just knowing how much more that I had to do.
Shifting the hold that I had on the leather between my teeth, I dragged a box containing a set of fresh bandages that I had set aside earlier. Bandages with a light brown coloration began to be wrapped around all around my arm, starting at my sore elbow on the way down.
Tentatively I grasped both torn parts of my forearm, attaching the sticky adhesives along where my shin had remained intact. Securing my thumb and pinky after binding the main length of my forearm, my hand soon arose as the biggest challenge. My wrist was a lost cause, and while I suspected that I had removed the worst fragments that could lead to internal bleeding in any case. Bringing my other hand back onto a usable level wasn't something that I was anywhere qualified to even attempt.
I was already shaking violently as I tried to wrap my arm back together like they had been before, covering up inflamed sections of my torn skin. Messy strings muscle got in the way time and time again, forcing me to pick up my knife to make rough incisions to take chunks off.
So the best idea that I came up with was to wrap up each side of my hand with their own bandages, and tie those two halves together. While probably a shit solution in the short and the long term, my intention was to keep an eye on any internal issues.
My middle finger was flat out fucking gone, and if anymore people were going to be grabbing me by the arm. Then I needed to be ready for amputation, saving part of my hand was more important to me than hoping to make a full recovery.
The spot where my sternum ended and met my stomach burned, fueling the sensation of fire that had begun to flow through my limbs. After being done with tearing myself apart, a combination of my intoxication and dwindling adrenaline finally overcame the unadulterated agony that had been flooding my brain.
I damn well nearly collapsed onto my own bag, letting my body slackened while I allowed my new set of bandages to settle in. Absorbing the sight of the branches forming a roof over us pass by, and the bitter alcohol that I had used mixed with copper from my own blood. Tearing the leather out of my mouth with my free hand the oil hung on the tip of my tongue as I tried to spit out the oddly sweet taste that I'd gotten from the tanned hide.
The color resembled what I had placed over my arm, tougher and less absorbent as I compared it to the clothing coating my forearm. Chalking up the fact that my new bandages hadn't been soaked through as a bit of mercy coming from Lady Luck.
Hadn't bled all that much since I had started cutting pieces off of myself. Instead staying focused on just digging through the rubbery sinew without needing to clean my switchblade as much as I thought I would need to.
I must've sounded like some animal fucking dying back here.
"Phaugh-! Hahhahahahahahehehe," The thought was too funny, recalling how some of the noises that I had made partly resembled the racket of horny moose. Now that hiking trip had been a fucking trip, I really think the guide was tugging on our dicks before we eventually actually met one. My amusement had sent the haze that I was under into a deeper sense of delirium, "Grah-! Fuck my life. . ."
My shirt was fucking drenched with sweat, or tunic I suppose if this is like some weird version of medieval Europe. Doesn't make too much of a difference at the end of the day, but rambling helped take my mind off the pain.
Everything eventually just blended together, stuck in a strange state caught between the waking world and the land of dreams. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar to me, having been a visitor once or twice in the past. Recalling how traveling by air had left me jetlagged, yet the destination forced me to remain wide awake under a harsh afternoon sun. Half of my brain that had been dedicated to storing long term memory chose to clocked out. While the other half registered that my family had been conversing in the other room in the meantime.
Course this time it had been replaced by the clopping of horse hooves against the packed dirt, and the light chirping of birds.
The only thing to break me out of this pseudo trace was when the wagon came to a sudden stop, a sudden jerk that flipped my reset switch. My injured arm twitched involuntarily, bringing forth a fresh dose of pain to the forefront. It proved to be the best wake up call ironically enough, resembling a shot of caffeine as it worked its way through my bloodstream as it forced a hiss out of me. Feeling subdued noises of someone speaking as I rose to my feet.
"-[thought you were going] to [sleep the whole day away, back there," Patting the side of my head with an open palm, my ears finally popped for me to catch part of the older man's statement. Returning his amused gaze with an embarrassed wave while covering my mouth to yawn, sensing several joints cracking my back as I stretched. Mumbling the universal sound of 'Mhm' as agreement at the man's next comment, "I [see you've had] a [nice nap] in [the meanwhile]."
He stood next to the equine, having unlatched the animal from its harness as he had led it to the other end of the wagon. Leading it over to a bag full of oats that it could be heard munching on. Coincidentally they were stationed where I'd immediately see them upon waking up.
It was fucking surreal.
On the other hand, horsy.
Some of the dumbest motherfucker that I've ever had the fortune of getting to meet, or misfortune to other people. I rather had a soft spot for the creatures, even if they are rather clueless even at the best of times.
My head, or my skull felt far too small for my brain as a lighter than usual case of a hangover swept over me as I hopped out. I had been hoping that my pain would've blunted how much alcohol that I had taken, and while I knew better. Never hurts to hold onto hope, no?
Regardless it seemed that body hadn't gotten the memo as of late.
While it wouldn't be anything that I hadn't dealt with before, having run out of liquor just exasperated the pain that I was under. The caramel coated steed didn't seem to care, side-eying me before chuffing as the equine went back to his oats. "[Baron decided] to [set] up [camp] in [the groove here for the night, he [seems] to [have taken] a [liking] to [the grasses]."
The elderly salesman gestured towards the horse at his side who had wandered off from his bag of oats onto the field of fresh green grass. Muttering exasperatedly to himself seeing that his trusty steed had snuck out for a snack the very moment that he had turned to face me. It was pretty funny.
"If [that's alright with you," Walking over to '[Baron]' with a small smile adorning my face, the mechant made a grateful noise before he spoke. The metal holding my feet from stretching too far from each other clinking whenever they were pulled taut. A hazel ear flicked when my good hand moved from tugging on his harness as it switched to petting. Bringing out a long puffy cylinder to lay out onto a dirt patch the merchant asked me a question, "I'd [like for you] to [take the first shift, assuming that you are] up [for such] a [thing]?"
His query had been pointed at me specifically onto top of being directed at me, well, while the message was ultimately lost in translation. The concern laden across the older man's face was obvious even to me. Reassuring him if that question had been about my health would probably be my safest bet, even should such a response miss the mark.
Trying to bring up normal English wouldn't work, but there had been that odd moment where I had somehow managed to speak what had sounded like the local language. I wasn't exactly sure what I had done last time to trigger that, but it seemed like an option worth taking.
"I am," There was something pushing against my throat, the feeling of having a thick syrupy liquid slide past my esophagus as I spoke. It forced me to swallow after managing to spit out the second word, having dealt me no small amount of discomfort to maintain. Snapping my finger when I found the strange feeling roll over my tongue after I finally found a word that fit my needs, "Ok."
Nodding offhanded at my confirmation, the elderly man released a groan as he dropped a log onto the floor with a bundle of sticks atop it. While I was stuck in a dazed state of sorts, feeling like I had been speaking in literal fucking tongues. The sensation probably resembled how it felt to speak while having that weird type of breathable water being shoved down your throat.
Regardless, I was definitely going to hell for that.
Clack, clack, clack!
A bright flash brought me out of my musings, my eyes drawn to the floor where the older man was crouching beside his unlit campfire. Several sparks occasionally flaked off a gray stone everytime that journeyman's palms came together. He appeared to have pulled out a worn flint and steel with the intention of starting a fire before the dusk finally turned into night.
Seeing the opportunity to make use of my lighter for something other than my cigarettes, I briefly climbed back onto the wagon. Returning with my gear I lit one of the twigs that he had been struggling with, eventually leading for the rest of the tinder to catch fire.
"Hhaha! [Good man," The merchant barked out a laugh, genuine appreciation being reflected from his eyes as he patted me on my back. Or almost did, taking his hand back before it connected as I gave him a hard stare while his hand wavered before returning to his side. Choosing instead to simply look over my good shoulder he stood at my side examining the device in my hands with a discerning eye that spoke of great experience, "[Now isn't that just the most ingenious little trinket]! I [can't believe that I've never thought] of [selling such a simple clockwork construct before]."
click!
"[Keep] it [safe and sound] my [friend. The eyes] of [Adrestia's finest tend] to [wander] in [these dark days," After having the lighter's lid snap shut on the salesman's face, he seemed to revert back to a more professional demeanor. The sight of seeing someone who appeared to be as old as my grandfather act sheepish nearly knocked me on my ass, though that may have been more due to my blood loss. He allowed himself a brief glance at the shackles that were still attached to my feet. Letting out a tsk while wearing a sour expression was painted across his face, "Trust [me] [when] I [say this will all have been worth] it [once] we [cross over into the fatherland proper, of [that] I [can assure you]."
The merchant visage hardened as a bitter look overtook him. Plopping down onto his cot he gestured for me to take a seat around the campfire at the other end.
"[We'll reach Westport soon," His age shown as a dozen seemed to be accentuated by the fire, his expression turning grim while he pointed offhandedly at the road we had been traveling down. The chill of a wet breeze sent a shiver down my spine as he spoke, "[And we'll have] to be [there] in [short order] if we [want] to [get out] of [Brigid before the storm sweeps through and shuts down travel for the next month]."
I almost wanted to interject, before shortly realizing that even if he understood that I had wanted further clarification. Finding out where we had been going was probably something that I'd find out either way, and came to the conclusion that it would be better to wait. There was no use in making myself look like a fool for nothing.
Not like I fucking had a single clue as to what he was saying to begin with.
"So [wake] me [early before the morning comes, shake] me [awake] if [you have] to. I [hope that you] do [not mind] me [being] a [heavy sleeper," The merchant's voice took on a jovial tone near the end, laying down atop the bedding that he had pulled out. While prone he lifted his arm out in an odd sort of salute reminiscent of the ones I'd seen nazi's use in films, "[You will not have] to be in my, ['debt', for much longer] if [the Goddess] is [willing. There will] be [justice]!"
God, was this a weird fucking place. The elderly man practically went out like a switch, the sudden sounds of raucous snoring erupted from the fellow once his head hit the pillow. Such strange folk. . .
I had trusted him to drive us this far, but truthfully speaking there wasn't a chance in hell that I was going to let him mess around with my wounds. He had offered, or seemed to when I briefly glanced back at him. Whatever limit that I sent in place for bullshit that I was willing to endure, allowing someone who was basically kidnapping me to touch me was a tad too far for my taste.
My temper had been left running high and dry, shooting through the roof without while simmering in the heat leaving me without someone's teeth to punch out. There had been a moment in time where I had honestly considered climbing into the front seat to beat the old man to death. Only holding myself back by wanting to get a punch in against the specific people responsible.
Today had already been far too hectic for my liking, I would have a biblical level punishment bestowed upon me at this point. Besides, I had always favored the idea of people getting what they deserved. It was always more satisfying to me that way.
The rustling of the chains anchored to my ankles left me enraged, only serving to piss me off further after being manhandled. Almost certain that I had made my opinion on them clear by now to anyone who would listen, which basically consisted of the merchant and his horse. Part of me had wanted to hop out of the wagon after being tossed inside, the only thing stopping me being literally dragged away from them. Momentary agony prevented me from doing anything but hyperventilating until the pain had subsided.
Hearing the metal clink against itself still annoyed me, though it was more of a mild irritation now than a viable reason for manslaughter. A deep sense of shame washed over me the longer that I had spoken with the salesman after realizing that I had genuinely considered murdering this old man. Seeing him nap with his back to me, while the weight of my knife pressed itself against my thigh just served to compound my feelings on the matter.
I need a smoke.
click!
My patience had run dangerously thin, the tension in my shoulder melted off of me in waves. Feeding my habit felt good, some piece of anxiety in my chest uncurled with every second that I let the cigarette simmer. At this rate there wasn't going to be any left by the end of the week, and I dreaded the day that there would be any left. I preferred not to ponder the implications.
God momma would've been having words with me if she knew about this. All of this really.
"-pffffuh good god," The smoke singed my nose on the way out, my gaze unfocused while I considered what to say. Along with the chilly night fooled me into thinking that the area around me was near freezing, the chill that went down my spine at the thought brought a manic grin to my lips. My good arm squeezed my injured one bringing my hysteria under control as I winced from the pain, "It's been a fucking while since the last time that I've prayed, been busy you know?"
The fire crackling before me occupied the center of my vision, my eye flicking between the various branches that licked the air and died. Replaced by smaller orange tendrils reaching forth that followed the same pattern I heard pop and light cracks come from the charred wood. All the tinder had long burned away. Entirely turned into ash and dust by now, with the remaining fire carved log standing as the only form of light in our small clearing. Well, apart from the absolutely miniscule amount of heat emanating from the end of my cigarette.
I was so utterly alone, the realization settling in as the sounds of crickets rang in my ear. The horses and other bugs shared just as much common ground with me as the other people here did.
That human itch for companionship got scratched, even in a half assed way where the language barrier gave me a dose of homesickness. An awful feeling like that would pass, in just the same way that the days seem to slip by before coming here.
"You don't really have any firm rules on prayer do ya? Cus I don't think that I can handle anymore bullshit today," My mumbles were barely higher than a whisper now, just on par with the rhythmic fire burning in front of me. Closing my eyes as I spoke. For a moment I basked in the diminishing heat while holding onto my mostly used up cigarette, "Or this week, god this is just a straight god damn shit show. Ain't that a damn bet that I won't have to check, fuck my luck. Seriously."
Both of my arms were warmed by the sporadic branches of flame, and allowed me to live in a momentary delusion. That I was with everyone else, huddled up by the fire waiting for Jackie to finish up whatever fucked new recipe for smores she had invented.
Pretending that nothing was wrong with either of my arms, and that this had simply all been a bad dream.
"I have no clue what to even pray for now that I finally feel the fucking need to. It's been so long," I once again erupted in nigh uncontrollable laughter. Chuckling with light sobs that overtook me for a moment before I shoved my weakness down. Taking in a deep breath to steady myself before I acted like a fool in front of the fucking mosquitos, or '[Baron]'. Phaha, uuhhhh. A sense of relief sprouted inside of me knowing that no one would take note of my mad ramblings, "Grant me the wisdom to know right from wrong, and the strength of spirit to act with such knowledge."
Opening my eyes, I could've sworn there had been light blue sparks arcing off of my finger tips. Finding a curled up thoroughly burned cigarette in its place after I blinked, huffing in frustration I dropped it onto the floor. Stomping it into the dirt while twisting my foot.
Truthfully, I couldn't sleep that night having been partially rested from my nap. Another odd thing atop my long list of curiosities since arriving here, I would occasionally hear light 'zaps' whenever a bug would buzz past my ears. Mosquitos were such a pain in the ass to deal with. I'd always been a veritable blood bank for the little shits, a shame that it was the same here as it had been back home.
There was nothing that I could realistically do in the situation that I had been stuck in, or that was how I felt about it all. Very much aware of the pain that was clouding my judgment, and how easy it would be for things to get even more out of hand. Choosing to take the path of least resistance just seemed like the safest bet to take at the moment, though I reserved the right to adapt should things change.
Don't really think that waving around my passport will help much if the people here don't even seem to recognize the fact that I was speaking english.
"AAAuuugh," Morning came about before I knew it, a thin wet coat covered me nearly head to toe. The first lines of dawn's light hit my half open eyed lids prompting a wince out of me, mixing rapid blinks as I shook my head back and forth. Releasing an awkward yawn while I cracked my neck, stretching to get the blood flowing.
It had rained during the night, no, not 'that' exactly but something similar. My brain lagged trying to find the right word, the morning dew sapping heat from my body needed to wake up. Gazing out into the rest of the clearing, past the washed out log that had been smoldering at what felt just a few moments ago. There was a thin layer of fog that obscured the forest beyond what seemed to be hundred or so meters, that being my best guess once the gray got thick enough.
Felt like a prelude, and while I generally loved water. Getting dry again usually tended to be a greater pain that it was worth going through the trouble for. Some birds thought the same, a whole flock broke through the fog to head further north. Flying just above the treeline, and closer to the ground than I was used to.
All of them headed in the same direction that the road was pointed to take us toward, which seemed like a good omen to me.
"Fuck me," Groaning aloud I stood up, tapping the soggy firewood with the tip of my foot to test it's integrity. Eventually coming to the conclusion that it simply wasn't worth the effort to restart the fire so that I could dry myself off. Didn't feel like working with wet wood, and looking over only to find a similarly drenched appearance coating the other logs within the wagon. Rolling my eyes I untethered '[Baron]' from the tree that he had been left against, "Not a fan of the rain little guy?"
There was a part of me convinced that he understood what I had asked, snorting directly in my face before he turned his head away. Suppose that counted as the first proper conversation that I'd had here since arriving, leading the equine by the reins back toward the wagon. '[Baron]' came without much of a fight, but not without trying to nibble on all the grass that we passed.
I didn't blame him, if there were a ton of sugary sweets just laying on the ground I think that I would've done the very same. On the other hand, time was of the essence.
Taking the fog as a prophecy that this day was going to get a lot of rain later on when the wind picked up. While I couldn't see any due to the fog, there was a safe bet that some darker rain clouds were looming above us. Actually getting more thoroughly drenched than I already was, wasn't something that I wanted to start my day off with.
"There," Idly musing aloud to myself, I went through the motions of tying '[Baron]' back onto his harness so that he would be ready for however long this ride was going to end up being. Bruising my good hand through his pure black mane I directed another pointless question toward the stallion, "Looser or tighter?"
An ear flicked, the one sole eye glanced back at me before readjusting his stance. Stamping a hoof on the ground with both ears facing forward, replying with a light whinny that I clicked my tongue at.
"Don't get fussy with me, the message is loud and clear. Hmm," Patting the steed's back I returned to the harness for a brief readjustment. Double checking various straps I found the girth to be lacking and pulled it back for it to fit better, "Nice and tight it is then. Happy?"
His whinny this go around was much lighter, a more lively sound that suggested his approval. Bumping his big horse against my face in an effort to gain my attention.
"Hhahaha. I'll take that as a yes," Chucking I gently pushed the appreciative animal away from my face, a more genuine sense o f amusement leaked into my tone. Finally I decided to step away and see if I could manage to get the older man back into the waking world, "Now to wake up my new friend."
Forgoing the attempt to pull off my earlier linguistic barrier entirely by gently prodding at the elderly man with a stick that had failed to catch alight. Crouching down to speak a few inches from the merchant's ear, "Time to get up sir."
"Hmmm," Sighing at the prods the merchant sat up bleary eyed with the sheer extent of how much of a good night's sleep a person could attain. Expressed upon his very visage, both eyes completely shut even while he was speaking with me. Scratching the wiry white hair atop of his head as he made a clarifying question, "Is it [time] to go [already]?"
"It is," From the tone that the merchant used and from what little that I could gather naturally, I assumed he was talking about us departing. Confirming the older man's suspicions as I rose from my crouched state, "I'll handle driving this time."
I elected to take that burden off the weary salesman's shoulders, also wanting to get a good view of where we headed. Passing through small villages on our way northward, and while it wasn't a straight path toward where I had planned to go. Most of them abandoned. I felt more securing if only on a superficial level by taking the reins.
While I was averse to making any form of conversation, even if it was to pass the time with small talk. He reminded me a lot of my late grandfather, so despite my apprehension, I let him speak if he wished to fill the emptiness between us.
The elderly man hopped onto the space beside me, releasing a delayed yawn before he spoke.
"[Keep] to [the paved road and we'll] be [fine," My friend pointed out at the path that I had driven back onto, pulling into a familiar position as I occasionally centered the wagon. I half listened to the older man as he started one of his stories, "[Baron knows the path that] I [took] to [come here, he is [smarter than] he [looks]."
"I am no [stranger] to [the tactics other merchants like myself favor] in [employing during the bargaining process," Looking down at the stallion pulling the wagon, the salesmen seemed to elaborate further on something about the equine. , "[While none possess] a [tongue more silver than] I, [but the one from whom] I [purchased had quite the claim when] it [came] to [this one. Gave] me a [good price because] of it."
The crackling bumps on the road slowly shifted towards milder crunches, as the path changed from paved gravel to packed dirt. Light chirps from songbirds, paired with a warm mist made my once clear view of the world far much more cloudy. A soft sort of warmth could be felt from the sun, its blazing heat tempered by the winter's mist. The fog wasn't at that level yet, thick gray clouds painted the leaf barren trees around me a darker shade then they should be.
"A [trusty steed] to a [felled pegasus knight, stripped] of [his magic and his wings] as [punishment from the goddess for allowing his rider] to [die. The merchant, she gave] me [this scale] as [part] of [the wager] we [made. She said that] he [was] of a [special breed," Rummaging around in the wagon behind us, he pulled forth the same scale that I had seen fall to floor as he regaled me with the tale. Making a dramatic pause before he finished the story to deliver the most important part, "Living while it should have been the two of them dying together, failing to uphold his side of their divine oath. And thus, she told me his name was, get this-"
He took a new breath as a -wild grin crossed his face, gesturing grandly while he delivered the big twist..
"[Baron," Joking, he spoke the name of his own horse. Leading me to assume that his steed was something that he held a certain pride in based on how much he had said, "[For the poor knight that] he [had led astray]. "
The equine accused in question released an angry huff at that last line, almost seeming like he could understand what was being said. Listening along more intently than I had been. Regardless, I tuned back in and nodded along very thoughtfully as the merchant's story came to an untimely end.
"Ah. It [seems] we [have arrived," Clapping his hands together he sat up straight to point out the city off in the distance. Waving it off. His tone took on a hint of disappointment as the great walls that sealed the city within became clearer to see, "[I'll tell you the rest when] we [have time later] on [the ship]."
"I [wonder what ever happened] to [the young woman hold sold him] to me."
We were heading for a city set along the coast from what it seemed this far out. A large sort of town by modern standards with gray stone and wood in combination to less advantage thatch and brick laid buildings. There was heavy damage, self-evident as we entered the city limits, entire roofs had collapsed as great black marks littered the city wall. There were town guards dressed in chainmail and leather gambeson at every entrance.
They did not look like me, by that I mean to say that their skin was several degrees lighter than mine. Nor did it seem that they enjoyed my presence by any measure.
Lifting crossed spears after my friend exchanged words with them, handing over a small booklet looking thing, The narrow gaze that they had leveled at me when we first approached departed after he gave them a small bag filled with coins. The light clinkling heard as it was passed filled in the gaps of what I couldn't visually confirm.
Making our way through the dour yet equally busy streets was a test of patience in of itself.
A tension curled up inside of me at the sight further into the settlement, more soldiers in uniform that matched nothing that I'd ever seen before. That was until we made our way past the central market and into the port, a place heavily patrolled by men with the same sigil of an eagle on their banners. I soon figured out why my merchant friend had gone along with my imprisonment without much of a fight, proving my worst fears to be right on the money.
I kept an eye out, staying with the wagon while my mercantile friend would walk up to those how appeared to medieval ship captains. Several scoffed at whatever it is he said or offered, and on the off chance they didn't. Looked over at me with expressions that I could not place.
There wasn't much work to be done, just keep an eye out between that and checking out what seemed like an entire contingent of slaves carrying in goods. With chains locked against their ankles like mine, with islander features different from my own, but far closer than those who held various weapons patrolling the docks. Unlike me, many of them were also bound to each other with collars with chains connecting one to the next.
Was it really necessary to go through that much, we're one set of chains not enough?
Seeing such a thing failed to truly surprise me at this point, but a mounting dread just kept piling on the longer this went on. One particular vessel, a rickety old looking dingy kept bringing enslaved folk below the deck. That alone was of little concern if it weren't for the fact that they never seemed to stop bringing people aboard.
I didn't want to know how they were being transported within such a small vessel. With that many people you'd have to cra-
"[Oliver]!" A new voice pierced throught the hectic harbor, as '[Oliver]'s head almost snapping ninety degrees after hearing someone call his name out. Stepping away from the ship captain that he had just been negotiating with as his fellow salesman came into view, "Oh, [what] a [wondrous day this] is [old friend]."
"Ah. [The same blessings] to [you] as [well Edward," Bringing the wagon up behind the pair as they met in the middle of the street, several hairs along the back of neck stood on end. Catching sight of an entire ontourage with the merchant, many armed and leading what seemed to be several dozen slaves on a huge galleon behind him. My attention repeatedly swapped from their conversation to trying to figure out how many people had been taken in by this man, "I [had thought that you had left already with most] of [the fighting over and done with]?"
'[Oliver]'s words only seemed to amuse his compatriot in silken garb, gray and brown hair swaying in the wind as opposed to '[Oliver]' near pure white.
"[You know how] I am [Oliver, where there] is [opportunity there] is [money] to be [made. And the Regime sure knows how] to [make good] on [their promises," '[Edward]' explained, only to laugh at his own jokes before a cough overtook his gloating tone. Turning to face me for a moment when I approached the dock with his ship where they we're speaking to each other. He examined my bandaged arm with a clinically apprisaling eye as I joined '[Oliver]'s side, "I [see that you have finally taken] my [advice and gotten one] of [your own, at [less then half price] I [bet with that tongue of yours! Speaking] of. [There] is [someone that] I [wish for you] to [meet, a [new companion] of [mine]."
"Oh," Even though this '[Edward]' clearly had a discerning eye by the way his gaze zipped about, he didn't seem to notice his friend's voice take on a tinge of dread. The change sent a rod up my spine and rooted me in place unable to move a muscle, "Do [you now]?"
This 'Edward' waved in my direction to fall in line, as '[Oliver]' nervously nodded at me as he followed along. Behind the two of them I light swung the reins and got '[Baron]' moving again.
"[That] I do! I [tailed] a [particular successful commander along his path] of [conquest and managed] to [make] a [killing. And not just from helping Adrestia with her logistics," This ribbon clad salesman gestured out at the grand ship he had been leading us toward, to the trail of slaves unloading what seemed like hundreds of crates. Delivering them toward a warehouse further down even more heavily guarded than any other location I had seen up till now. '[Edward]' signaled one of his men with an idle hand to acquire something for him, "[Her past name was something truly dreadful] to [the ear, so I [did here the liberty] of [anointing her before the grace] of [the goddess]."
Regretfully it turned out that 'that' something, was a someone. A sentiment that '[Oliver]' seemed to share by his terse smile.
"[How nice," Oliver remarked with an incredibly broad sounding and nonspecific layer of polite praise, "[She must] be [proud]."
"It [was but] a [small matter, no [trouble] at [all. You should have seen the rest of the barbarians] in [our guild Oliver," Briefly waving a booklet like '[Oliver]' had used before in the face of a man dressed in a captains uniform. He allowed us to pass through unimpeded while giving me a death glare all the while. '[Edward]' took on an exasperated tone after wiping his brow of nonexistent sweat, "[Course the newcomers will learn] in [time, but they should know] by [now how much more profitable] it is to [acquire vessels] in a [set]. Of [how expressive] it [gets when you fail] to [ensure your merchandise]."
"[They wish] to [make] a [name for themselves Edward," The merchant that I had come to now took on an annoyed tilt, saying words that reverbrated in a way that felt practiced. Despite having never once heard of them before today. Pulling his arms before his back there was a sense of nostalgia that coated his words, "We [we're much the same] at [there age] if [you recall, even] if we [stayed within Leicester for the majority] of it."
From where I was sitting I could see '[Edward]' pondering his friends words, his eyes unfocused and instead narrowing on something I could not preceive.
The look of contemplating broke instant upon catching sight of a young girl approaching us. Bearing short light brown hair that looked like it had been cut recently, the person responsible doing a sloppy job of it. Even so it wasn't anywhere close to the worst offender when it came to her appearence. There didn't seem to be a single safe place for my eyes to wander with all of her clothing seeming to be a size too small, so I settled on her face and went no lower.
She couldn't have been older than twenty years old, even if I were to be the most generous that I could given the circumstances. Looking somewhere between seventeen or sixteen if I we're to go off of her height, but that was no help when added to how gaunt her face was. Just as defeated as all the other slaves in the harbor appeared to be even if she seemed to be slightly better fed.
"[Too true.] I [suppose that] I [can see where our younger guild members are coming from," A wide grin grew onto his face, too satisfied at the presence of one single person to be anything good. He pulled the girl closer to him, forcing her to grip onto him to steady herself lest she fall to the floor. Maintaining a tight grip on her arm as he present her infront of himself for his friend to take a good look at, "As [you can see] as [well] I do [that there] is [plenty] of [untapped beauty] in [these lands even after the initial invasion]."
Smack!
The young woman, jerked upright at the contact as her eyed seemed to widen like a deer caught in headlights. Her demure expression narrowed as a bead of sweat slid down the side of her face. Briefly meeting my eyes before they snapped back down to the floor. Unbeknownst to her 'master', he didn't seem to notice the tension in the air. His voice continued to take on a jovial tone as he lead up toward a ship all the while I drilled a hole into the back of his skull with my eyes.
"[Even] so [the unsullied are truly] a [rare gem," He. spoke the words while spinning her around by the arm, treating the poor girl as his person toy. I was suddenly glad that I hadn't had anything to eat yet, my hunger leaving me as the sensation of bile threaten to come up my throat. The disgust rolled off of me in waves. Far too much to notice that the leather reins in my dreath grip was beginning to release smoke from beneath my fingers, "[Uncut gems are always such] a [joy] to [work with, don't you agree]?"
Noticing that the girl and I we're the only one's walking around without a collar didn't little to temper my paranoia. Grapping my bag and another that looked particularly valuable before I dismounted. Leaving behind '[Baron]' as a dozen slaves took to unloading both him and the salesman's goods from the wagon.
"Nothing better than coming to [see the fruits] of [one's own labor," '[Oliver]' put on an exaggerated joyful tilt to his voice as he spoke, words flowing with a practiced ease unlike how he had sounded when it was just the two of us alone. A change in tone that sounded so natural that it unnerved me the next time that I met his eyes with my own. Looking back at me as he started to board his compatriots vessel he beckoned me forth, "I [prefer challenge] to [test] my [skill] to [take nothing and make these savages into something useful]."
Various uniform sailors and guards passed me on the way onto the ship, taking my time to settle my nerves. Delving into the belly of the beast was something I took with great hesitation, and did anyway.
"Ah, it [your right as always," A sultry grin settled as he face he released his 'prize' head below deck. Returning to some sense of noble as he clasped an arm around '[Oliver]'s shoulders, "[It's going] to be [fun exchanging notes] on [what methods work best, and] to [see what exotic trinkets you've managed] to [uncover. You've yet] to [introduce] me to [your own personal little helper after all]."
The sun was obscured by the dark clouds that began to cover the sky, blanketing the entire harbor with darkness. The sky rumbled as we boarded this galleon, a line of slaves with a skin tone similar to mine and the girl's complexion boarded the vessel on a separate bridge. Whilst taking in the view '[Oliver]' beckoned me forth with a tilt of the head, the hint of a nervous expression threatened to break out across his face. One that shown with relief as I nodded in his direction and took a step o the plank of wood that would bring me onto the ship-
BOOM!
After a particularly large arc of lightning traveled across the heavens, a deafening crash of thunder swept through the harbor. Those remaining yelled out commands, and the work taking place sped up just as it seemed some of the smaller ships were released into the bay. It felt reassuring to leave before having to endure a storm that looked so vicious even from this distance.
My mind gnawed at where in the hell such a storm had appeared, the size of it should have been something that I would've caught wind of the first day I was here. It seemed like just another strange thing that I had not satisfying answers for on top of everything else.
Chapter 3 Note:
Wanted to double post, but didn't have the time. Got like 3 morning shifts in a row and that just straight up killed my motivation. I should mention, because while fairly obvious. Italics stands for nonnative languages, and everything in [brackets] applies to things that aren't comprehensible *yet. Part of me wanted to be more through with this chapter, but even I don't want to be in this part of the story for too long. So I'm going to forgo an extra revision and see if I can release 4 and 5 as a batch, and give people a real opportunity to make a vote to impact how the story will progress at the end of 5. Should give me enough time to storyboard and plan things out accordingly.
Choose (optional to participate in)
1. Where, when, and how do you think consumables should be utilized?
2. Outlook on having a fresh new start, the whole isakai scenario thing? Is it overplayed, overrated? (New!)
I plan on using any contributed information to design a secondary protagonist in the future. To introduce them as a sort of foil when compared to Alcides and make everything more compelling, yada yada. I don't plan to have that many 'opinion' choices running at the same time, at most they'll last for 3 chapters before I delete them.
Actual opportunities to impact the story will come later. (After Embarr basically if you ahve read my previous version of this tale)